


Whiskey Soaked Strings

by alilyinhighgarden



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Past Seth/Dean if you squint a bit harder, Seth/Finn if you squint, Very Sad Seth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 14:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16683457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alilyinhighgarden/pseuds/alilyinhighgarden
Summary: Seth stared down at the shots lined up in front of him, ready and willing to be consumed when a hand on his shoulder and a voice in his ear broke his concentration. “Whatever you’re hoping to get from those, I doubt you’ll find it,” Finn said as he slid onto the stool next to Seth.Of course someone saw him sitting in here. He knew he should have gone with his initial impulse to find a shitty hole in the wall but he did not want to worry about getting back to his room so he had instead settled for the hotel bar. Also- maybe- he was worried that a shitty hole in the wall would be just the kind of place he would find-“You can’t sit here and down shots alone. That’s just sad.”





	Whiskey Soaked Strings

Three shots were lined up in a neat row on the bar top, ready and willing to be consumed. Drinking in excess had never been appealing to Seth, he craved too much control to find allure in losing it. But did he really have control? Maybe in fleeting moments but since that first day Dean Ambrose waltzed into FCW and set his sights on him, Seth had felt more like puppet than master. Dean was not the one always pulling the strings- through the years other people had taken up the crossbars- but Seth still found himself blaming him for turning him into a marionette. Now it seemed he was back performing whatever twisted script Dean had concocted in his head. So why not give into the loss. Let his mind become numb by the shots of strategically chosen whiskey sitting in front of him.

He was staring down the glasses, had been staring them down for who knew how long, when a hand on his shoulder and a voice in his ear broke his concentration. 

“Whatever you’re hoping to get from those, I doubt you’ll find it,” Finn said as he slid onto the stool next to Seth. 

Of course someone saw him sitting in here. He knew he should have gone with his initial impulse to find a shitty hole in the wall but he did not want to worry about getting back to his room so he had instead settled for the hotel bar. Also- maybe- he was worried that a shitty hole in the wall would be just the kind of place he would find-

“You can’t sit here and down shots alone. That’s just sad.”

The ‘really’ that ran through Seth’s head was etched into the raised eyebrow he gave Finn instead.

“Fine. You can be sad but you can’t be alone.” Just like that Finn got the bartender’s attention and instructed him to set up his own arrangement of strategically chosen whiskey- though Finn would have no idea  _ why _ that specific label was poured.  

Seth ignored him and lifted up one of the glasses, eyed it for a moment, then downed its contents in two unpracticed gulps, pulling a face as he swallowed the bitter liquid. The taste of it seemed to stick to his tongue and Seth had to question why people chose to casually drink such a thing. Without a word Finn picked up a shot glass of his own and followed suite.

“Doesn’t whiskey have a lot of calories,” Seth asked dryly.

Finn shrugged, “If you’re concerned about that then don’t make me drink it.”

Seth prickled at the insinuation, “I’m not  _ making _ you do anything.”

“For every drink you take,” Finn pointed at the ounces of hopeful oblivion still sitting in front of Seth, “I take one. So whatever misery you’re trying to bring on yourself remember you’re taking me along with you.”

Seth grabbed another glass, looked straight at him, and once again upended the contents. Slamming the glass down on the bar he stared at Finn, hard and waiting. Forcing him to show his hand. Was he really playing this game or had it been a bluff. Seth was surprised when Finn picked up his own matching glass and slid the whiskey down in one swallow.

“I’m really done with mind games Finn. At least for tonight.”

“I’m not trying to play games. I’m trying to stop you from waking up feeling like shit in the morning.”

That elicited a snort from Seth, “I’m already going to wake up feeling like shit in the morning.”

“Sure,” Finn’s lips turned down and he nodded, “But it doesn’t have to be on the floor next to a toilet.”

As if to tell Finn exactly what he thought of  _ that _ concern Seth quickly downed the last shot. At least the act was getting easier. The taste not as sharp as the first one. He had even managed to drink the whiskey in one swallow this time. Once again, Finn continued this fucked up game of monkey see, monkey do.

“Why are you doing this,” Finn spun the newly emptied glass, round and round as he watched Seth with concern.

Seth shot him a dark look, “You know why.”

“No I don’t,” he shook his head, “You’ve been through downs before and I’ve never caught you like this.”

“I’ve got nothing left,” Seth shrugged. As if this was a fact that could not be argued.

But of course Finn would try and argue it. “You have the intercontinental title.”

Seth looked at Finn as if that was the dumbest thing he had heard. “I’ve got nothing left,” he repeated flatly.

“Well if you don’t want that belt I can take it off your hands.” It was obvious that Finn was trying to lighten the mood. It did not work.

He had loved being Intercontinental Champion. Winning that belt at Mania had been one of the highs of his year, only eclipsed by the excitement he felt by Dean’s return. Now both felt tainted. Even though he would still go out in front of the crowd and wear that title and smile it was a carefully curated act that he could not keep up. Every time he strapped that belt on he heard a distant whisper of  _ these are what you care about, right? _

“Get Corbin to set up a match. Though he might tell you to get in line.”

If he had to choose his opponent he would rather have Finn if he was honest with himself. He and Finn could go out there in a few weeks, take each other to the limit, and laugh once they got backstage. Instead he was set to fight Dean for the first time in two and a half years and there was no hope for friendly camaraderie before or after or ever. When he and Dean squared up it always meant more. It had always meant more. It was both exhilarating and infuriating. No matter what bravado he put forth, he absolutely was not prepared to go twenty minutes in a ring  _ trying _ to hurt Dean. He would. He would channel all his anger and target it on Dean. Because he was prideful. Because he was a fighter. Because a part of him thought Dean did all of this because he craved the kind of battle Seth would give him. But god damn he did not want to.

Seth motioned to the bartender and asked for three more shots. He was given a questioning look but seemed mollified when Finn asked for three more of his own.

“You don’t control me,” he spat out. Even in his own ears it sounded childish and unconvincing.

“I know,” Finn nodded, “I wouldn’t be foolish enough to try.”

“Why not? It’s easy.” And just like that another shot was gone.

“What does that mean,” Finn asked before picking up his fourth glass.

“The Shield, Steph and Hunter,  _ him.  _ ’m pretty sure someone’s always been pulling my strings.”

“That’s not true. Most of this year-“

“No one was in front of me to do it but up here-“ Seth tapped his head. The simple act felt like it required more thought than it should. “I was always keeping his place. Making sure no one got too close so he could step right back in. We could pick right back up.” Seth stared right into Finn’s appraising eyes and one thought came through clearly in a mind that was started to become soggy, “I pushed people away, kept them at arm’s length so when he came back there’d be no confusion.”

Finn looked solemn but nodded like he understood what he was trying to say without forcing him to say it. Seth was not sure  _ how _ since he was not even sure he knew what he was trying to say anymore.

“Why are you doing this?”

Didn’t Finn already ask him that? He thought for sure he had but maybe the alcohol was taking more effect than he was giving it credit for. Finally, Finn pointed at the shot glasses and Seth realized what he was asking.

“It fucking hurts- I fucking  _ hurt _ \- and this,” Seth used his index and middle fingers to slide his fifth glass closer to him, “is supposed to make you feel numb, right?”

“For some people,” Finn got his own glass in preparation, “Some it makes sad. Others it makes angry. Some people it just depends on the night and the liquor.”

“I always thought that’s why-“ he stopped, unable to let Dean’s name roll off his tongue. Even thinking it sent a shock of pain through him. These little aftershocks kept happening and he was not sure how long it would take for the chasm to grow enough to be obvious. Or was it already apparent that he had been torn apart? “-some people drank. Because they felt everything so vividly and needed to mute the emotions.”

The way Finn looked at him with pity let Seth know that  _ he _ knew exactly  _ who _ some people were. Seth hated it and tipped the glass to forget that look of pity along with all the other looks he received lately. Especially that cold and carefully crafted snarl that kept drifting into his dreams.

Finn slammed his own empty glass down. It startled Seth as he had not even seen him lift it up. Again Seth felt a hand running along his shoulders, it took a moment to connect that it belonged to his put upon drinking partner. He tried to focus on it and Finn instead of the vision of roaring fires and burning symbols of brotherhood and graffitied walls and familiar fists flying that continued to demand every bit of him.

“Why’re you here?” The words came out on a slow, sad sigh.

“Because you’re you,” Finn said as if it was the simplest thing in the world to answer. Seth wished anything in his life felt that simple.

He rested his head in his hand and stared at Finn, “Wha’ does that mean?”

“It means I’m not gonna let you light a match when you’ve had gasoline poured on you.”

“That makes no fuckin’ sense.” His tongue refused to twist around the syllables and make them crisp.

Finn smiled and it was warm in a way that did not burn and genuine in a way that rang true and felt powerful enough that Seth wondered if it contained its own agents to provide the numbness he craved. “It means that I’m not gonna let you think you’re alone or have to throw anything away.”

Seth shook his head, causing it to slide off his palm, though he was still able to recover. “I  _ am _ alone.”

The hand running soothingly along his back stilled at his neck and squeezed. “You aren’t.” His eyes were piercing and clear and it seemed determined to imprint something on Seth’s soul.

Seth was not sure about his soul but his heart did  _ something  _ at that but everything felt too muddled to sort out what that was. His brow furrowed, “I’m not?”

Finn shook his head so imperceptibly that Seth was not sure it actually happened. “You have me.”

That brought a lot of questions and some emotions that Seth was in no place to examine but even the alcohol could not force him to deny that he  _ felt, _ but for the first time in weeks it was not a bad feeling.

“‘m glad,” he could feel the smile on his lips. Why did such a small movement seem so obvious? How had he never appreciated how his lips pulled with his emotions before?

For a moment that stretched well past the time it actually lasted, he and Finn just sat there, staring at each other. Seth heart picked up its pace. Was that a side effect of the whiskey?

“So that shot,” Finn pointed toward the final glass, “You taking it?”

He stared at the liquid, waiting for the impulse to reach out and swallow it down but it did not seem to come. “Think ’m done,” he sighed.

“Alright.” Finn stood up and patted Seth’s shoulder. “Let’s get you to your room.”

Seth slid off his stool and stumbled but was saved from a fall by Finn’s arm finding its way around his waist, steadying him. Just like Finn had found him sitting alone in a bar and steadied him.

“How come you don’t seem drunk? I’m pretty sure I am,” Seth asked as he laid his arm over Finn’s shoulders, allowing him to support some of the burden of his weight as they headed toward the elevators.

Finn laughed. “Practice, love. Practice.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments feed my soul.


End file.
